


The Care and Keeping of the Self, for the Modern Serpent

by Arcafira



Series: Care and Keeping [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pet Store, Self-Acceptance, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcafira/pseuds/Arcafira
Summary: Aziraphale coaxes Crowley to overcome his internalized negative associations with snakes by suggesting they adopt a pet.An epilogue to The Care and Keeping of Snakes, for the Modern Human
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Care and Keeping [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619875
Comments: 6
Kudos: 113





	The Care and Keeping of the Self, for the Modern Serpent

Crowley’s scales were sleek and new when Aziraphale said, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Crowley had taken up his new favorite place draped around Aziraphale’s neck like a scarf, his serpentine head hovering over whatever page the angel happened to be reading. This allowed him to read books with plausible deniability. _Have you taken up a sudden interest in theology?_ Aziraphale had asked, and Crowley, when he had his human mouth again, had said something along the lines of, _‘Course not. I’m a snake, so can’t close my eyes like humans do. Just happen to have them open in the direction of the page_. In this way, he’d finished a record amount of books in the past week and learned more than he’d ever wanted to know about theologians’ musings on the apocrypha.

Crowley slid from Aziraphale’s shoulder and onto his desk, making a smooth transition into his human body so that he lay with his belly pressed to the desktop. He propped his newly formed chin up in his hands and eyed the angel.

“And who’s this?” he asked, tongue flicking out reflexively as if he could glean some knowledge from the air. His human tongue was worthless for information gathering, but it was a difficult habit to break after being in his serpentine form for any significant length of time.

“Someone I met when I was trying to learn how to help you,” Aziraphale answered.

*

“For Satan’s sake, angel. A pet store?” Crowley willed the Bentley’s engine off and stared at the storefront. “What’re you onto?”

“You’ll see. They’re quite a nice fellow.”

“You brought me all the way out here to meet some human shopkeeper?”

“Not human,” Aziraphale teased as he got out of the Bentley, leaving Crowley with no other choice but to follow if he wanted answers.

“Not an angel,” he hissed under his breath when he’d slammed the car door and caught up with Aziraphale.

“No.”

“A _demon_?”

Aziraphale laughed. In the late morning light, he could just see the gold of Crowley’s eyes widen behind his sunglasses. “Certainly not, my dear. It’s nothing so scary as all that.”

The shop bell rang cheerily as they entered, and Crowley sulkily stuck his hands into his pockets.

“Welcome!” an employee behind the register called to them, a smile of recognition playing across their face. It was Sam, the one who’d answered Aziraphale’s bumbling questions about snakes and ultimately showed him the book _The Care and Keeping of Snakes, for the Modern Human_. He still kept the book on the desk at his bookshop, just beside his Bibles.

“Smells in here,” Crowley grumbled as he followed Aziraphale down the aisles.

“It is a pet store.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve decided we need to adopt a dog together. I’m not ready for that relationship stage. Don’t think I’ll ever be.”

But Aziraphale had stepped aside to gesture to a wall of glass tanks, and Crowley stilled in that way only a snake can. To Aziraphale’s relief, the red-eyed orange snake was still there. They slithered to the glass, raised themselves up, and stared as they had before. “Isn’t it sweet?” Aziraphale prompted.

Crowley stared. The snake flicked its tongue.

“Crowley?”

“Oh no,” he said.

“What?”

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” he said, slowly backing into a shelf of fish food.

“I haven’t even proposed anything,” Aziraphale fretted.

“But I know. I know you. This is the kind of soft bastard thing you’d think of.”

“I just thought it might be good—” Aziraphale started just as Crowley began shaking his head. “—for you to continue your journey of self-acceptance by disassociating snakes from the biblical symbology.”

“I am _literally_ the biblical symbol. You understand that, yes? I can’t dissociate myself from myself.”

“Even so—”

“Is this your friend?”

Aziraphale and Crowley both turned to see Sam innocently staring up at them. They’d been too engrossed in their discussion to notice.

“Um. Yes,” said Aziraphale, looking between Crowley and Sam. He worried the hem of his waistcoat and smiled.

“Is your snake doing better?” Sam asked.

“Yup,” said Crowley, refusing to look in the human’s direction.

“And we’re very grateful for your help,” Aziraphale added.

“Looking to get another, then?”

Crowley and Aziraphale answered simultaneously, one of them in the negative and the other in the affirmative, one grumpily emphatic and the other enthusiastic.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Sam said, backing away.

“I won’t do it, angel. I’m not ready,” said Crowley. He’d taken his hands out of his pockets. He wasn’t slouching. This was serious now, Aziraphale understood.

“My dear,” he stammered. “I’m sorry for pushing too soon. I thought— Well, I’m sorry.”

“’S fine,” Crowley mumbled, back to slouching. “Let’s go home.”

*

They couldn’t return to the ease of that morning. Aziraphale fretted, offered to make Crowley tea no less than five times, and eventually settled down in a corner of the flat as far away from the office—and Crowley’s throne—as he could. Of course, Crowley noticed his sudden renewed discomfort with the object, which always seemed to flare up whenever there was tension between them. That morning, Crowley understood, had been special, and he wished he’d savored it more. If he closed his eyes and made his mind be still for a moment, he could almost feel the memory of the angel’s heat through his scales.

Aziraphale feigned relaxed reading, but hours passed and not a page turned. Crowley kept his pacing to the rooms of the flat not occupied by Aziraphale, pausing to whisper to his plants and tenderly stroke their leaves as he passed. They rustled at him, bent closer as if with questions.

Night fell. Crowley tried to sleep, desperately wanted to enter unconsciousness if only to escape the awkward tension in the flat. He slouched in his throne, frustrated and awake. In the dark window, he watched himself. _Blast it_ , he thought, and removed his glasses so he could really see. Slitted golden eyes stared back at him, and he tried to read his face as others might. He manifested black scales along his forearm and held it up so that he could see it in his reflection. What kind of person was he—to have two bodies yet spend thousands of years living in one to avoid the other? It seemed a trick, a sly thing to do. A serpent thing.

But he wasn’t doing it to fool others. No, humans are easily fooled by appearances. It didn’t take much. He had, however, successfully deceived himself _about himself_ for thousands of years. If that wasn’t being a wily serpent, what was?

*

Crowley went alone this time. He could feel Aziraphale’s gaze on him from the flat window as he sped away in the Bentley. He hadn’t told Aziraphale where he was going.

The corn snake was still there—that’s what the placard said, _corn snake_. Sometimes, Crowley was of the opinion that humans shouldn’t be allowed to name things. But She had started that tradition in the garden, and the humans had just kept at it.

Sam seemed nervous to approach Crowley without his angelic partner there. He continued to watch the snake and was content to let Sam hover awkwardly for a few moments. He was _still a demon_ , even if only in the pettiest of ways.

“N-need any help?” Sam asked.

“I’d like this one, and I’d like you to show me the best equipment you have.”

*

There probably wouldn’t be much need for the terrarium, Crowley decided, even though he’d spent the money on it. He’d mostly bought it to appear sane and human. Gilbert—he’d named the corn snake Gilbert because it seemed like a very human name to give—was an adult and could be expected to behave like an adult if given expectations. So on the drive home, Crowley laid out the ground rules.

Stay out of the drains, especially the one in the kitchen sink. There’s a garbage disposal in there, and that could result in some nasty stuff. Play nice with the plants; I think they’ll be happy to meet you. If you need to go hide out in a dark corner for a while, let me know beforehand so I don’t panic and think you’re missing.

Those kinds of things.

And so, with Gilbert curled around his shoulders, Crowley returned to his flat and his predictably fretting angel.

Aziraphale was rounding the corner as soon as he heard the door shut, but the list of questions died on his tongue and the furrow in his brow eased as soon as he saw Gilbert.

“I got the snake,” said Crowley, shrugging his shoulders and Gilbert in the process.

“I see,” said Aziraphale.

“And you’re not going to put him in a terrarium either. He deserves to be free to make his own decisions.”

“Of course he does, my dear.”


End file.
